Those who know me well know that we (my sisters, brother, sister-in-law, mom and various aunts, uncles and cousins) call my dad Mister. It's a long story, but the name came about when I was around 4 and my sister Clare 3 because Mister would spend a lot of time lying in bed watching TV. His head on his pillow. He became Mister Pillow, but that name got shortened over the years. Sadly now I can't remember a time when I ever called him daddy, though I'm sure I did. There are days I think I should again, but I doubt it would be as endearing as "Mister."
There's a song by Reba McEntire called "The Greatest Man I Never Knew." In it Reba sings about her dad, he lived "just down the hall." He read his paper every day and he thought she hung the moon. Mister's room was always at the opposite end of the hall from me. To this day he reads his paper, every day. Sometimes more than one. Everything she sings about is Mister. I think Reba must have been living secretly in the third floor of our Philadelphia house or in the attic in Hollywood.
The thing that brings the song home for me is that he never said the words "I love you." My mom would say it. He never did. I don't know if it was his generation or if he just thought I knew so he didn't have to say it. I always wanted to hear it though.
One day I swallowed my pride and decided I'd say it (I never said it either). His response "I love you too." Now every Sunday when he calls he tells me that he loves me. Sometimes he even says it first.
Happy 81st Birthday Mister. You are the greatest man I know.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Seeing Clearly
I wrote this back in June, but never posted it. It still seems like a good message (one I could use now). : )
I have shocking news for you. Many of you may be surprised by this, but I feel as if I need to let you know. I was a geek. That might even be putting it generously. I wore my hair in a pony tail for all of junior high. I had thick Coke bottle glasses and hideously crooked teeth. I won’t even get started on the acne that blossomed before everyone else’s (or so I thought). I moved to South Florida with my heavy Philadelphia dialect (“wooder” instead of “wah-ter” try that with my last name). I was teased mercifully. By the time I got to eighth grade, I felt that it was acceptable to be spat on. At least it made me feel like I belonged and then I was less than a geek.
Thirty years later (please don’t do that math in your head because I in my mind I’m 22), that junior high girl is gone, sort of. Gone are the crooked teeth (I still have to wear a retainer at night), the ponytail is worn only on really hot or bad hair days, the glasses have been replaced by contact lenses (most of the time). The Philadelphia dialect is slowly being replaced by a Texas urban twang (I can get my Philadelphia on when necessary though). The acne has been transformed to laugh lines.
However, the self conscious girl who was teased and spat on is still deep down inside me. She doesn’t come out often, but when she does, the only person who sees her is the one who reflects her in the mirror. The 13 year old girl in the mirror still wants to be accepted. She still wants to be pretty. She wants to be normal. She wants everyone to like her. She wishes she was thinner, smarter, and had whiter teeth.
We hear so much on the news these days about bullying. The latest story is the grandmother who rode the bus every day and the kids taunted her. She is a woman in her 60’s who was brought to tears by 13 and 14 year olds. Why does this go on?
They say that you hurt the ones you love the most. I know those kids in junior high didn’t love me. I was their entertainment. I doubt seriously that the kids on that bus give Karen Klein a second thought when they’re not on that bus. To them it was just fun.
I am 100% guilty for making fun of my friends. 100%. I do it. They make fun of me too. Usually it is just friendly fodder for conversation. As friends, we know how far we can go. But I wonder, am I really hurting their feelings when I say certain things. I have been known, on more than one occasion, to put my foot in mouth. Then someone ends up with hurt feelings and I find myself apologizing for something that I never meant to say in the first place (it’s a Sagittarius trait so at least I come by it honestly and half the time I don’t know that I’ve done it).
I try now to be more cognizant of it when I make fun of people. Especially people I don’t know. I am striving to find the best in everyone. Especially in myself.
I have shocking news for you. Many of you may be surprised by this, but I feel as if I need to let you know. I was a geek. That might even be putting it generously. I wore my hair in a pony tail for all of junior high. I had thick Coke bottle glasses and hideously crooked teeth. I won’t even get started on the acne that blossomed before everyone else’s (or so I thought). I moved to South Florida with my heavy Philadelphia dialect (“wooder” instead of “wah-ter” try that with my last name). I was teased mercifully. By the time I got to eighth grade, I felt that it was acceptable to be spat on. At least it made me feel like I belonged and then I was less than a geek.
Thirty years later (please don’t do that math in your head because I in my mind I’m 22), that junior high girl is gone, sort of. Gone are the crooked teeth (I still have to wear a retainer at night), the ponytail is worn only on really hot or bad hair days, the glasses have been replaced by contact lenses (most of the time). The Philadelphia dialect is slowly being replaced by a Texas urban twang (I can get my Philadelphia on when necessary though). The acne has been transformed to laugh lines.
However, the self conscious girl who was teased and spat on is still deep down inside me. She doesn’t come out often, but when she does, the only person who sees her is the one who reflects her in the mirror. The 13 year old girl in the mirror still wants to be accepted. She still wants to be pretty. She wants to be normal. She wants everyone to like her. She wishes she was thinner, smarter, and had whiter teeth.
We hear so much on the news these days about bullying. The latest story is the grandmother who rode the bus every day and the kids taunted her. She is a woman in her 60’s who was brought to tears by 13 and 14 year olds. Why does this go on?
They say that you hurt the ones you love the most. I know those kids in junior high didn’t love me. I was their entertainment. I doubt seriously that the kids on that bus give Karen Klein a second thought when they’re not on that bus. To them it was just fun.
I am 100% guilty for making fun of my friends. 100%. I do it. They make fun of me too. Usually it is just friendly fodder for conversation. As friends, we know how far we can go. But I wonder, am I really hurting their feelings when I say certain things. I have been known, on more than one occasion, to put my foot in mouth. Then someone ends up with hurt feelings and I find myself apologizing for something that I never meant to say in the first place (it’s a Sagittarius trait so at least I come by it honestly and half the time I don’t know that I’ve done it).
I try now to be more cognizant of it when I make fun of people. Especially people I don’t know. I am striving to find the best in everyone. Especially in myself.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
A Perfect Life
My life is perfect. I may not have everything that I want, but I have everything that I need. I have a family that loves me. I have the best friends that anyone could ever ask for. I don’t
know how I could ever be so lucky. What did I do to deserve all of this?
Sure there are many things that I wish I had that I don’t have and probably never will. Not all of it is material either. I wish I had had a child. It’s probably the biggest disappointment in my
life. It’s the one thing that I always wanted to do, and the one thing that I will never do. Well, more than likely never do. And it’s the one thing that people don’t talk about. Single, childless women – who wanted children – never talk about that disappointment. It’s like a taboo subject. How comforting would it be if we did talk about it to each other? At least then we wouldn’t feel so alone.
I really don’t spend a lot of time thinking about not having had a child. It’s a pointless thing. It’s like being upset because I never got Barbie’s Dream House (I really wanted one, but
had to settle for Barbie’s Townhouse instead). I focus on the kids I do have. My most precious Godchildren who I couldn’t love more if had bore them myself. The 500+ kids I have
taught. I am amazed at what they have become and at what they are doing. It warms my heart to know that I have had a part, however small, in the person they have become.
I just wish society didn’t make it feel so bad to be single and childless. I once had a friend, who is married with children, ask me “If you don’t get married, and have kids, who’s going to take care of you when you get old?” Every once in a while that question rears itself in the back of my mind. Who will take care of me? Am I supposed to call my 80 year old friends to come help me when “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up”?
I don’t advertise my faith a lot. I believe everyone has a right to their beliefs. For that reason, I don’t bring religion into a lot of discussions. For this, I feel I need to. It’s
really the only thing that helps me to accept the life that I have (which is wonderful). I believe that God has given me exactly what I need. I don’t always understand it or like it, but I accept it. This is the life I am supposed to have. Someday I’ll know why . . .
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
The Year of Mary
If you are a Seinfeld fan, you no doubt know about "The Summer of George." George gets fired from the Yankees and decides to enjoy himself all summer and become very active. Of course it's Seinfeld so this doesn't happen. George becomes so lazy that his muscles atrophy and he has to learn how to walk all over again.
Luckily, I have not lost my job, and I'm pretty good at being busy, but sometimes I can get into a rut. I can get grand ideas to try new things only to give up on them before I even start. I worry about stupid stuff that in the long run isn't that important. I'm trying to make everyone around me happy, while I neglect myself. And worst of all, I keep doing the same things over and over again hoping to get a new result. How many of us have done that? Come on, you know you have.
So thus is born, The Year of Mary. I am ready for new adventures. I've got some horseback riding lessons on the docket. I'd like to play tennis again. I need to write more. In my six and half years in Dallas I yet to be in town for the famed St. Patrick's Day Parade. That changes this year. I think I'll be IN the parade (how 'bout them apples?). Oh there are so many things I am going to do this year (sadly Money, Money, Money by Abba is playing as I type and I wonder where am I going to get the money for these adventures).
As I have these new adventures, I will try to update you on them. We'll see what happens. If anyone has anything to suggest for The Year of Mary, please do. I would love to hear your ideas!
Luckily, I have not lost my job, and I'm pretty good at being busy, but sometimes I can get into a rut. I can get grand ideas to try new things only to give up on them before I even start. I worry about stupid stuff that in the long run isn't that important. I'm trying to make everyone around me happy, while I neglect myself. And worst of all, I keep doing the same things over and over again hoping to get a new result. How many of us have done that? Come on, you know you have.
So thus is born, The Year of Mary. I am ready for new adventures. I've got some horseback riding lessons on the docket. I'd like to play tennis again. I need to write more. In my six and half years in Dallas I yet to be in town for the famed St. Patrick's Day Parade. That changes this year. I think I'll be IN the parade (how 'bout them apples?). Oh there are so many things I am going to do this year (sadly Money, Money, Money by Abba is playing as I type and I wonder where am I going to get the money for these adventures).
As I have these new adventures, I will try to update you on them. We'll see what happens. If anyone has anything to suggest for The Year of Mary, please do. I would love to hear your ideas!
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